


Cut Me Deep

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2020 [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Day 10, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, The Cage, Torture, Trail of Blood, Whumptober 2020, internal bleeding, they look so pretty when they bleed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Lucifer has a knife. Who gave him a knife?
Relationships: Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Non-Consensual Pairings
Series: Whumptober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947223
Kudos: 15
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Cut Me Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2020
> 
> No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED
> 
> Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood
> 
> (I'm so sorry I couldn't come up with a legit summary)

“ _AAAGHH!_ ”

The scream ripped from Sam, as the knife ripped his flesh. It tore through his abdomen. Skin, and muscle fell pray to the Devil’s blade.

Sam was panting where he stood, arms spread, chained against the Cage.

Lucifer watched as he licked the blood off his knife, avoiding the sharp end.

Lightning flashed, yet Sam didn’t need that light to see his eyes. They were glowing red, a sign that he was experiencing great, sadistic pleasure.

Sam wanted to throw up.

“ _Mm!_ ” he moaned. “Oh, my Dad, I love your blood.”

Sam raised his head to spit at him, but before he could, Lucifer was grabbing his face hard, squeezing till he thought his jaw might break, or at least dislocate. Sam could barely breathe, but if it was from fear or how his face was getting scrunched up, he couldn’t tell.

Lucifer tapped the knife against his cheekbone, near his left eye, and Sam tried to stay as still as possible, not wanting to lose his eyes again. To the Devil, seeing was a “privilege,” and it was one he could easily take away.

Luckily, he avoided his eyes most of the time. They were deemed “too pretty to get rid of.”

The knife slashed his cheek, and Sam fought with Lucifer, grunting. A scream wanted to tear from his throat, but with Lucifer’s hold, it was strangled.

The hand left, and hot blood slid down Sam’s cheek, dripping off his jaw onto his neck. The blood from the deep abdominal wound was already seeping into the front of his pants. The very sensation of his blood flowing across his skin left him woozy.

Lucifer flipped the knife, and before Sam could react he stabbed him in the shoulder, tearing through joints, ligaments, and possibly even bone. When the knife was drawn out, it was slightly bent, as if the force Lucifer had stabbed him with had been too much for the blade he’d conjured up.

Sam couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t scream.

He couldn’t feel anything, but the godawful pain in his shoulder.

_Just take deep breaths,_ he told himself. _Deep breaths._

But how the hell was he supposed to take deep breaths, when the very action was agony? His shoulder moved with each breath, his diaphragm moved beneath his torn abdomen. Was this almost over? His torture for the day?

_No,_ he realized. _This is just the beginning._

The knife slashed up his arms for good measure, drawing forth tears from Sam’s eyes. And his breaths were in desperate gasps and wheezes.

Lucifer pat his chest, and then his shoulder.

Sam screamed, trying to move away, but this only pulled at his shoulder. He was left sobbing, head down, hair falling in front of his face.

“Good, Sammy. Very good.”

A fist punched into his diaphragm.

The air _whoosed_ out of him so fast and with so much strength that his lungs _ached_. Oh god.

Sam was going to pass out.

No, he was going to throw up.

His body seemed to decide, why not both?

Sam might’ve thrown up. He was too hot, head filled with a godawful sick feeling, unable to feel his body. He’d lost his vision. And his chest hurt.

So he might’ve thrown up, but he didn’t know for sure.

His world stayed black.

When he came back to himself, Lucifer was holding a hand to the back of his neck, and another to his forehead. Sam moaned, the hands blessedly cold as ice, soothing him, lowering his temperature, making sensation rush back into his body. His head pounded still, but _oh_ , this was nice.

Sam could hate himself later for that thought.

Right now he was just filled with relief.

The sweat that had coated him, and the sick, were gone. But the blood remained.

Lucifer breathed in heavy, and while Sam’s body was wondering what the fuck was going on, and was weak, and vulnerable, he kissed him. Rough.

Sam cringed back, wincing from the disgustingly familiar sensation.

Lucifer licked and bit at Sam’s lips, demanding entry. He bit till he bled.

Sam refused.

Lucifer dug his fingers into the wound on his abdomen.

Sam tried to not scream, but he was breathing heavy, sobbing. And then he was screaming.

Lucifer’s tongue was in his mouth, trying to reclaim what had once been his.

Sam was still his, whether he was possessed or not. But the Devil felt as that abundantly clear point had to be revisited every hour, every minute, every _second_.

Long, horrifying minutes passed before Lucifer drew away, patted Sam’s bleeding cheek, and then punched. And punched.

_And punched._

Something felt like it ruptured inside him, and a few of his ribs _cracked_!

Sam hung from his restraints, feet not supporting him. But that pulled on his shoulder. And he couldn’t breathe.

_Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe._

Pain was all he knew.

Lucifer’s hand ran through his sweaty hair and tangled in it, pulling his head back so he could observe him. Sam was barely aware of him. He was barely Sam anymore. He was Lucifer’s. He was the pain. It wasn’t just a bundle inside of him. It _was_ him, taking up every inch of his body, digging deep into his soul.

His gut hurt so badly he started dry-heaving, which led into sobs.

Lucifer pressed a hand against the wounds. Sam’s breath hitched. Those fingers pressed again, feeling around. But for what? _Why?_ Couldn’t he just _stop_?

No, he would never stop.

This was Sam’s existence.

The Devil.

Lucifer breathed in, and then let out a guttural moan.

“Internal bleeding,” he commented. “Mm, I did a good job with you.”

“Fuck... you.”

“Nah, I think I’ll just fuck you instead.”

Fear tingled through Sam so quickly that the jolt of adrenaline had him pulling his head out of Lucifer’s grip, and he managed to spit onto his face.

That earned Sam a punch in the face that broke his nose, drawing forth hot, crimson blood. Another punch, and his brow was cut open. Another. His cheek.

Then, Lucifer went over, and released him from his chains.

Sam collapsed to the bottom of the Cage, moaning, and whimpering where he lay. Oh god, why did he have to be on his injuries?

He tried rolling over, but it was no use. He could barely move. The adrenaline rush had been quickly fading, leaving him barely alive.

He shook, the shock stealing all of his energy, and then some.

Lucifer grabbed Sam, and then started dragging him to another corner of the Cage. Blood trailed in his wake, and dripped into the endless void of the bottomless pit of Hell.

Lightning flashed.


End file.
